


Mistake

by akashiete



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, akashi says shit, basically takao vs akashi, lowkey midotaka kiss, takao gets existential
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 06:31:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5775250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akashiete/pseuds/akashiete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He deserves better than you."<br/>"I know."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is my first story so sorry about it, thanks to shan for helping me with the title, motivating me (and a lot more) and to the lampadabadoobahs for sticking with me and reading this for proof. i hope you like it and sorry if it's confusing asf?

**“He deserves so much better than you,” he decided to vocalize.**

The beat of the basketball echoes across the court, just like his words; tearing down the walls separating me from reality. Nothing could protect me now. I clenched my eyes tight together. I could feel the weight of the crowd’s eyes, sterner than that of my own. They gleamed with a craving for my anxiety, laughing spitefully at me, and I couldn’t bare to look. My conscience told me to remain still as the words dissolved into the darkness beneath my eyelids- with only a split second to be able to semi-equate with it. My eyes reopened, eyebrows raised; arched like the Gateway.

“What was that?” I asked the redheaded point guard, perplexed with his statement.

I could hear my heart beating -faster and faster- swimming to unknown gates: strokes of bafflement, inquisitivity, and somewhat betrayal.

And boy, was my heart rushing to open those doors wide, wide open.

Almost suddenly, I could feel the vexation, that I had been suppressing, bubbling: rising to the surface. 

_ How could he? How dare he? _

I halted, my sneakers abrading against the hardwood floor, causing a screeching sound to ring throughout the stadium and tingle against my absent self. I tried to focus on the ball. But I couldn’t. It was being blown back and forth, by the Emperor himself, imitating the thoughts reiterating in my mind. The questions. Feelings. The conclusion that I was brought to.

In fear of what he might do next, I, again, closed the silver disks revolving within my irises, exposing them to the twilight. This time, for longer than a second- maybe two and a half.

A series of feelings surged through me. A familiar dull yet effervescent laugh filled the room, and I could almost taste the shikuro flavor that I’d become accustomed to. His monotone voice wrapped around my rigid, fixed body, causing me to further stiffen as my heart fell deeper and deeper into the metaphorical pool. I was underwater; drowning, and we were sea otters, gripping the other’s hands, so we wouldn’t lose each other. Not yet. Holding each other, the way three-year-olds cling on to their mother's’ legs.

Little did I know, that hadn’t happened. I wasn’t actually drowning. But it felt real, and it still was. I rested at the bottom of the seemingly infinite ocean and, if I listened close enough, could hear the sounds of moisturized droplets plopping on a metallic surface. Freezing as they trickled into the abyss; like the sight of his bright green hair on an incandescent day, refreshing and just right. Beautiful: the only thing keeping me alive. Still with shut lids, I regained slight consciousness, gasping for air and, saddened by what I had realized the inevitable result of this conversation would be.

As my breaths intensified, the smell of the other point guard's sweat haunted me; brackish, strong and thought-provoking. It lurked into my mind like a burglar, or maybe an unsuccessful businessman running for president. But one thing was for sure, it was as salty as my favorite shooting guard. I thought of the lights in his glasses covered eyes, both black and white. Damaged like the sky, and the moon. They were complex, and the stars in the galaxy. Underrated, like the first drop of water you ever had.

And that’s when I opened my eyes, to see the sad world I’d been conditioned to. A sad world that I knew would one day not contain him. A sad world, that was already, without him. And, I knew it, it was all my fault. I beat myself up on the inside trying to prevent myself from breaking down right in front of the Miracle I was marking, from breaking down about how he was right. How I had never been the right partner for him, but he had always been the right one for me. How I was too attached, and focused on recognition and gained skill levels that I cleared my mind of everything else. How this prevented me from the already gained life that was in front of me. Whether it was during after hours shooting practice, or picking him up in the morning. He was always there.

“He deserves better than you,” Akashi restated, and it was a giant slap to the face. I could actually feel the burn that seemed almost as red as his hair, imprinted on my cheek. I rose my fingers to trace its transparency, pushing strands of my jet-black hair behind in the process. But it was only a wake-up call, telling me to fix myself. He was blissfully unaware of the effect his words had caused me. Unaware of the self-conscious thoughts he had provoked. Unaware of how much of a complete mistake he had made.

And as I loosened my muscles, legs moving forward, and taking possession of the ball, I said:

  
“I know.”


End file.
